What Do You Do When You Feel Sick?

Recently, I was sick.

Really?

Yes.

Really, really? Are you sure you aren’t seeking attention?

Yes, really, really—slightly seeking attention as a bonus for my blog. I’m going to have to start having more attitude towards you to try and calm you, tame you.

Muhahaa, I shall never calm, nor be tamed.

Moving onward.

As I mentioned, I was sick, and even sick, I looked as cute as this:

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You weren’t lying about attitude, but you never mentioned conceitedness.

I was scheduled to be teaching assistant for the first-year part-time students in osteopathy for the past five days. If any of you are in Montreal, you know how hot it was—click here to read about the record-breaking heat wave.

I am asomatous; how do you expect me to click?

Simply don’t.

The class was being given in an AC-less building in downtown Montreal. The heat was blistering, gifting small puddles all across dress-shirts and t-shirts, to teachers and students alike.

On Thursday morning—day one of five of being the TA—I had a sensitive swollen lymph node in the anterior part of my neck, and a slight soreness in my throat. I was convinced I was going to feel worse the next day. The lymph node felt like a premonition of death’s hirelings making their mark on my body.

The next day—Friday, day two—,the lymph node was more sensitive—it also spawned a twin under my mandible—, I had a runny nose, and I had a raucous voice. I was harrumphing every 24 seconds, swallowing was painful, and I was killing trees by the minute with my nose-blowing. By the end of the day, I had a headache, little energy, and a mickle of slime spewing out my nasal cavity, sluggishly, slow as a snail, yet steadily and fiercely pacing himself for the finish line.

Woah, you can hold back on the details.

I shall not—although it doesn’t get much worse than what I just described.

Friday night, I felt lethargic and apathetic, so my friend made me some cinnamon and honey infused water in the evening, to soothe my throat—I was all out of lemon and ginger. I also took 15 drops of grapefruit seed extract (GSE) to help ward off whatever I was housing at a quicker pace than what my physiology was doing already.

That night I slept awfully. Saturday morning—day three of five—I felt like death himself, devoid my joy and splendor. I had no choice but to rise from the dead, with his scythe hacking and slashing at my throat and nose, and get ready for my third day as a TA—BBS as my English Nana would say.

No swearing on the interweb please.

That day, I had four or five cinnamon and honey concoctions, I killed several trees again, I drank two 15-drop servings of GSE, and I started coughing quite a bit. I spoke sotto voce all day, trying to stay alive until evenfall.

Class finished at 6:00 PM, I got home at 6:40, and was under my covers, in bed, at 6:52. I slept until 7:00 AM the next day—I woke up at 9:00 and 1:00 to empty my bladder, and at 11:00 to make another Baker Infusion—named in homage to my friend who made the cinnamon and honey infusion. I felt feeble and feverish all night—click here to read a previous post about how a fever works.

On Sunday—day four of five—I felt slightly, only a tittle, better. Death had left my body, but his minions were still running about, breaking and ushering cells into chaos, upheaval, and uproar. I managed to get through Montreal’s scorching heat-wave and my TA day with only several bodily qualms. I had a two hour rehearsal with my swing dance troupe that night, and I managed to go through both hours while killing only one branch of a tree—one nose-blow.

On the morrow, Monday—day five of five—,death’s minions had started going on strike, finding the working conditions too dangerous; they were under constant assault of the physiology police. The few survivors decided they should stop working under such harsh conditions, and my nose, brain, and body were grateful for the aforementioned police’s awareness and effectiveness, armed with GSE rocket launchers.

The day went by smoothly, with scanty tree-killing, a few harrumphs, and no sensitivity in my swollen cervical lymph nodes. I went to my 90-minute swing class last night, and managed to dance all night—*exaggeration alert*—in the blazing heat of another AC-less, fan-driven, paltry-ventilated room—*non-exaggeration alert*.

And here I sit, today, 86% better. Hopefully tomorrow I will be back above 94.8%.

Talk about precision.

In summary, here is what I did / do when I feel sick:

  1. Take GSE at least twice a day.
  2. Sleep more than normally.
  3. Have an awesome person create me a beverage, called the Baker Infusion—or consume lemon-ginger-honey concoctions if I have the required ingredients.

Basically: rest and take care of my body.

What do you when you feel that you are getting sick? Are you the type to summon paladins, and arm them too the tooth to fight death in the face? Or do you yield, and lie sickly in bed, weeping, waiting for it to pass its course?

Sick-note: bleh.

Can You Control Your Dreams?

Something unbelievable is happening to you.

You cannot fathom this as being reality: you get an insane promotion; you win the lottery and are able to travel the world to your heart’s content; you’re soaring above the clouds, living in harmony with birds and dragons; you’re transforming into a Super Saiyan for the first time—that might just be awesome for me and my geeky-ness.become-a-professional-pilot.jpg

Reality?

Fantasy?

Truth?

Myth?

You realize all is too good to be true—except I still believe to this day that the yellow-golden hair transformation is achievable and not too good to be true, all in due time—and that is because it isn’t.

You come to a sudden realization: this is not reality; I am dreaming!

Time to take the reins and fulfill my wildest desires [insert grin].

This phenomenon happens at least several times a year to me; I realize I’m dreaming, I manage to remain inside it, and I take control. It is a delight! I become an omnipresent entity capable of controlling things ranging from the animate to the inanimate, from the corporeal to the surreal. I am able to lead my dream in the direction I want, and I can explore circumstances that would never be possible for me—or anyone, really—within the boundaries of our world.

Here are some of my highlight “self-induced” dreams from the past few years:

  • I inherited the ability to read people’s minds.
  • I was able to hover a few feet from the ground. I have yet to be able to fully fly without any restrictions, although I have tried countless times. This seems to be one of the limits of my dream controlling capacities.
  • I managed to cast several kamehamehas—although all were below 9000.

I brought this topic up while chatting with some people this week, and they told me that they couldn’t control their dreams. One of them said she is able to re-enter a dream if she falls back to sleep fast enough, although he affirmed that he can’t control it upon entering his dreamscape. It seems I was the only one present capable of controlling dreams.

That piqued my curiosity: are you able to control your dreams? Either way, what would you do if you could?

Side-note: this post’s theme definitely seems to be Dragon Ball Z. I have already opened up a tab with the first episode of Dragon Ball Z Kai. Now, decisions decisions…

What’s Your Morning Routine?

And so my day begins; I wake up, do my routine, and go on with my life, oblivious to the early morning mechanics. Only recently did I stop to ask myself questions such as:

  • How do others begin their days?
  • Has my morning routine changed over the years?

I’ll answer the latter; your job is the former.

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As a matter of fact, my routine had been the same since—as long as I can remember—high school. However, I changed my routine a few months ago. I’ll get to that in a bit.

I adhered strongly to the belief that I needed a shower to start my day. I was under the impression—as a consequence of self-indoctrination—that without one, I could not rise from the protective slumber of my oh-so-comfy blankets.

Such nescience.

I recently receive the book Tools of Titans by Tim Ferriss as a gift from two generous friends—thank you. Briefly, Tools of Titans is a compilation of the habits and routines of successful individuals, and is split into three chapters:

  • Healthy.
  • Wealthy.
  • Wise.

I read the chapter about Tony Robins (p. 210) the night I received the book at 2:00 AM when I got home from one of the aforementioned friends’ house. I was instantly dismayed. It took all of 15 minutes to dismantle my belief system of the mental shackle of the “holy morning shower” I had created.

In the chapter, Tim Ferriss explains how Tony Robins immediately gets out of bed when he wakes up, and start his priming routine. His routine consists of:

  1. 30 to 60 second cold-water plunge (very different from my 15-20 minute warm shower wake-up call).
  2. Quick breathing exercise—or alternatively his “breath walking” exercise.
  3. 9-10 minutes—split into 3 sections of 3 minutes—of cueing and prompting enabling emotions for his day.

I implemented a similar routine 6 hours after reading the chapter. Since then, I no longer need to bathe under the once-believed “shower of awakening”. Now I am walking outside with my jacket and boots on—it is still somewhat winter in Montreal—two minutes after my alarm rings. I walk around the block for about 10 minutes, and have applied my own adapted priming routine.

What is your priming routine? Do you have a must to kickstart your day?

Although my self-indoctrination has been abolished, my love for a hot shower has not dwindled. As I finish writing this post, I am imagining how nice the imminent shower will feel.